


Atlas Air

by Tangerine



Category: X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Community: trope_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entrepreneurship is not going well for Rictor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlas Air

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "au: steampunk" square on my [Trope Bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card.

"You piece of shit," Julio muttered, banging helplessly against the rusted gear with his wrench. It wasn't like he was asking a lot of his airship, just basic flight between point A and point B, but so far, it'd managed to lurch its way over from the shipyard to his rented dock and run exactly five crappy-paying delivery jobs before it just up and died. So much for his grand delusions of self-sufficiency. 

"Fuck," he said, sitting back on his heels and pushing his goggles off his face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He had _totally_ been swindled, and he was so fucking pissed about that, because he was better than this. He'd been on his own for over a year, working shitty jobs and saving up enough to buy this junk-pile. He could just imagine the laughter when his fucking family found out, which they would, because they'd been showing up all around town since his so-called rebellion, like intimidation would work. 

They didn't know him at all. Some family. 

He walked around to the other side of the engine, which was equally fucked, just for less rust-related reasons. He could probably manage to shake the rust off without shredding the airship, though he hated the idea of using his mutation within city limits, especially when it could get him arrested, but all the crap at this end looked finicky and complicated, neither of which he had the time for right now. 

Julio groaned, bracing an arm against the engine then leaning his forehead against it in despair. No wonder so many of his cousins had just stuck to the family business. Being an independent adult was hard as hell, and he was obviously not very good at it. "Fuck everything about this flying shit-box."

"You swear a lot."

Julio jumped and bit down on the string of curses lining his tongue, turning around to face the fucking stranger with the balls to invite himself onto Julio's incredibly shitty airship. "Who the hell are you?"

"Shatterstar," the guy said, holding up a ratty piece of paper. "I am answering your advertisement."

"Your name is Shatterstar," Julio repeated dully. "Seriously?"

"It is what I choose to be called," Shatterstar replied. "I have another name, but it is ... odd."

"Odder than Shatterstar?"

"Gaveedra Seven."

Julio made a face. His parents must have really hated this guy, to give him names like that, but weirdly enough, he actually looked like a Shatterstar. It was probably the huge honking black star-shaped tattoo over his left eye. He hoped this guy wasn't a cultist or anything, especially with that name. He'd run into too many unhinged people into the arcane dark arts to be in a position to trust any of them. 

"Okay, well, let's see," Julio said, wiping off the grease on his hands with his pants, grateful his mother wasn't there to see it. He gestured for the ad, which Shatterstar handed it over. It was creased with fold lines and a little dirty, like he'd been holding onto it for a while. "What do you know about airships?"

"Very little," Shatterstar replied, "but I am a quick learner. I can fix anything."

"If you can fix this engine, the job is all yours. If you still want it after you see how fucked I am."

Shatterstar nodded and went immediately to work, and Julio tried not to stare. If it was possible, Shatterstar was even stranger from behind than he was from the front. His hair was utterly ridiculous, almost down to his ass, a wavy mess of strawberry blond hair and the occasional braid, and he had two swords strapped to his back. _Swords_. Julio thought this whole situation really spoke to his desperation. 

Julio had put up those ads up weeks ago, back before he realised his family would never let him succeed. He'd never once gotten a response, partially because his cousins had done a great job ripping them down almost immediately and partially because hooking up with him was a death sentence.

He'd let Shatterstar fix his engine, give him all the money he had, and tell him to go. 

"My name is Rictor, by the way," Julio said, craning his neck to see what Shatterstar was doing, but all that hair was totally obscuring his view. "You can call me Ric. Everyone else does, 'cept mi madre." 

He wasn't sure why that last bit had come out in Spanish, probably nerves. He was terrible at small talk. 

Shatterstar yanked at some important looking pipe and dropped it on the deck, the muscles in his arms flexing impressively. Julio was glad Shatterstar had the foresight to roll up his sleeves, so Julio could properly ogle his well-formed limbs without being too obvious. "And what does your mother call you?"

Julio raised an eyebrow. "Julio."

"It is a respectable name," Shatterstar replied, grabbing a pair of pliers then disappearing into the engine, his pants stretching tautly over his equally well-formed ass. Julio cleared his throat suddenly, withdrawing his watch from his breast pocket and staring intently at the time. It was almost noon. 

"It's better than Gaveedra," Julio agreed, snapping his watch shut and turning to look out over the water instead, bracing his elbows on the bulwark. "Where are you from anyway? I can't place the accent."

Shatterstar pulled away from the engine and looked at him. "You would not believe me if I told you."

"I might," Julio said, twisting back to face him and crossing his arms over his chest. "Try me."

"I am from another dimension. A place called Mojoworld. It is very different from Earth."

Shatterstar didn't seem to be lying, so either he was actually telling the truth (terrifying to imagine), or he belonged in an asylum (also terrifying to imagine). Shatterstar was a big guy, taller and more muscular than Julio was, so Julio was pretty confident this guy could easily murder him in his sleep if he turned out to have a few screws loose. So it was for the best, really, that Julio couldn't, in good conscience, give this guy a job. He would end up saving both their lives, or so he guiltily told himself.

"You do not believe me."

"I didn't say that." 

"I can prove it to you," Shatterstar replied, "if you are concerned that I am deranged."

"I'm afraid to ask, but sure, why the hell not." Julio eyed Shatterstar as he stood up, from the worn leather of his boots to the open collar of his linen shirt. He looked pretty human, in Julio's opinion, though freakishly attractive. "Do you have a mutation that transmits your thoughts? I hate that shit."

"Nothing so invasive," Shatterstar assured him. "I simply require you to lift me."

"You ... _what_?" Julio said, realising he probably looked like the deranged one now. "That's really not necessary ..."

It was a good thing, Julio thought, that they were alone, because he would have never lived this down if there were witnesses. Preparing for back strain at the very least, Julio braced himself for Shatterstar's weight, keeping his face impartial as Shatterstar slid an arm around his neck then kicked his legs up into Julio's waiting arm. Julio waited for the inevitable crash to the deck and probable broken bones. 

"What the hell," he said, one hand curling around Shatterstar's side, hoisting him slightly. 

"I have hollow bones," Shatterstar replied, mouth close to Julio's face. "I weigh ninety-five pounds."

"I believe you," Julio said, letting Shatterstar go then brushing some imaginary dirt off his clothing, mostly just rucking up his shirt so it covered his sudden erection. That was the closest he'd been to anyone since he left home, and home had pretty much been limited to one-armed hugs, not ... _that_.

Whatever that was. This was quickly turning into the weirdest day of his life. 

Shatterstar nodded, like what had just happened wasn't really weird, and went back to working on the engine. He had really well-shaped thighs, his form-fitting pants hugging every curve of muscle. Julio turned away quickly because no way was he going down that road, not with this guy, not with anyone. Julio had a bounty on his head, and if his family found out he'd given someone the time of day, well.

It'd be bad news for both of them. 

Julio went below deck to the small living quarters and prepared the percolator for coffee. He felt a little weird leaving Shatterstar alone, but worst case scenario, he stole the airship with Julio still in it, which meant this money-sucking piece of shit would be his problem. So it was the best case scenario, too. 

He sliced up some semi-stale bread, cut the mold off his brick of cheese, and added a few slices of cured meat to the two sandwiches, then polished two bruised apples for dessert. It wasn't an impressive meal, but he'd survived on less, and it was only polite to feed guests, according to his step-mother.

Julio checked himself over in the cracked mirror he kept by his hammock. He still had the stupid goggles on his head, keeping his thick hair away from his face, but it was a pretty decent look, in his opinion. He tugged on a vest, buttoning it up, then quickly changed his mind and took it off again. 

Shatterstar was still poking around in the engine when Julio emerged top-deck. 

"I made lunch, if you're interested."

"I am. Thank you," Shatterstar said, wiping his hands on the seat of his pants then shrugging out of the leather harness he wore across his shoulders, laying his swords gently down on the deck. Julio eyed them curiously, and Shatterstar drew one of them out of its sheath. "I was a gladiator on my world."

"You killed people?" Julio asked, eyes scanning the lengths of the pristine double-blades. 

"Yes, it was a matter of survival. I eventually escaped and ended up here."

Julio suspected there was a huge story to go along with that comment, but Shatterstar just put the sword behind him as he sat down on the deck, cross-legged. Julio slid a plate over to him, then tried not to notice how hungry Shatterstar seemed, biting hugely into the sandwich and not noticing its mediocrity. There probably weren't a lot of job opportunities for a guy like Shatterstar, especially if he wasn't legal.

"Listen," Julio said, guilt gnawing at his guts, "I can't actually hire you."

Shatterstar frowned at his sandwich. "Why not? Your engine is almost fixed, and it _will_ work."

"I don't doubt it," Julio said honestly, trusting his instincts. He actually really needed Shatterstar if he had a chance in hell of pulling this thing off, but he couldn't send a guy to his death, even a hungry one. "I'm the oldest son of Louis Alelandro Richter. I don't know if you know who he is ... was ..."

"I know who you are," Shatterstar replied. 

"Then you must have heard what my family does and how fucking pissed they are at me."

"I was warned away from you, yes," Shatterstar agreed, biting into his apple. "I had to break the arm of the man who tried to withhold that job advertisement from me. He claimed to be your cousin. Omar."

Julio gaped at him. "You were the one who did that?"

Shatterstar nodded, a dark look in his eyes as he glanced to the stern of the ship and out over the water. "I have very little options for employment on this world. I am not a citizen or a legal visitor. I have no papers. I could work as a mercenary, but I find the members of that guild to be generally unpleasant."

"Understatement of the century," Julio muttered, picking at the crust of his half-eaten sandwich.

"You would not even have to pay me," Shatterstar said. "Food and shelter, that is all I ask."

Julio snorted. "That's basically all I can afford anyway. I've fucked up every step of the way."

"We would be stronger together."

"I have a mutation," Julio confessed, unnerved by the intensity of Shatterstar's gaze. "I can make earthquakes and stuff. I don't use it, because, you know, I like not being in jail, but it's always there."

"So do I," Shatterstar replied. "It is one of the reasons I ended up here in the first place."

"This is a bad idea," Julio said, shaking his head, then almost jumped when Shatterstar put a hand on his bare wrist, his thumb pressed against Julio's pulse. Practically pleading, which wasn't an easy thing for anybody, but probably completely against character for a guy like Shatterstar. "You might die."

"I hope you have not mistaken my swords for jewellery."

It sounded almost like a joke, the first hint of humour from him, and when Julio looked up at him, Julio realised Shatterstar was on the cusp of a smirk. The expression sent a little shock of pleasure down his spine. So maybe it was his desperation for friendly human contact talking, or just his over-eager dick, but he found himself saying, "okay, it's your funeral," and offering his hand. Shatterstar took it quickly.

"You will not regret this, Julio," Shatterstar said earnestly, squeezing his hand instead of shaking it. 

"Don't call me Julio," he replied with a lop-sided smile, and hoped to hell Shatterstar was telling the truth.


End file.
